


The Unfinished Symphony

by huhu_lene_gz



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Disc-war centric, Dream Smp, Gen, Heavy Angst, I basically compressed the history of Dream SMP through Tommy's eyes, I wrote this in like 3 hours, Karl Jacobs - Freeform, L'manburg-centric, Phil Watson - Freeform, Songfic, Spoilers for all seasons, antfrost - Freeform, jack manifold - Freeform, punz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huhu_lene_gz/pseuds/huhu_lene_gz
Summary: "Who am I without you?""Yourself."Based off Derivakat's song: Ain't No Crying.Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2mIWJWi4Bhk
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Dream, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i had a flash of inspiration and wrote this in 3 hours idk what came over me
> 
> Chapter 1 = Season 1   
> Chapter 2 = Season 2  
> Chapter 3 = Season 3 
> 
> Does not contain anything past Ranboo's mourning stream.

_What am I fighting for?_

“This is our drug van, Tommy,” Wilbur says, arms spread wide, at the vintage camper parked deep in the woods, surrounded by dense copses of trees. Its sides are scratched, wheels splattered with dirt. “We are going to make an empire. _Our_ empire.”

Tommy gives it an unimpressed stare. Surely Wilbur must be off his rocker? Creating a nation from the unlawful dealings of drugs? How would this ever take off?

_Whose side am I on?_

“White flags!” Dream snaps. The glow of his armour is bright against the night sky. “White flags outside your base by tomorrow at dawn or you are dead!”

Tommy resists the urge to spit in his face. How dare Dream barge into their country without so much as a greeting? How dare Dream tell them what to do? He is no better than them. He is a mere mortal, not a god.

Against Dream and his buddies, Tommy will fight. For Tubbo, for Fundy, for Eret, for Jack. For Wilbur. For L’manburg.

_Lost everything in the crossfire…_

“There is only one thing left to do,” Eret says, dipping his head. In their desperation, no one could have caught the sinister tone in his voice, the knowing glint behind those stained glasses.

Tommy pulls himself out of the lake, bunching the fabric of his shirt in his fingers and squeezing them of water.

“Come with me, gentlemen. To the Final Control Room.”

_Witness the wreckage at dawn._

“Here.”

Dream’s face may be covered by a mask, but Tommy can almost see the triumphant grin as he closes his fingers around the discs. Their sheen in the rising sun is taunting, mocking.

“Promise you’ll leave L’manburg alone, Dream.”

Dream salutes silently, slipping the discs into the recesses of his cloak. Without another word, he is gone, the clink of his armour the only sounds in the quiet of the woods.

Tommy turns back to his country. The place where he belongs. The place he has sacrificed so much for.

It is time to build it back up.

_Say it enough and you’ll start believing._

“We won, right, Wilbur? We won!” Tommy cries, laughter unrestrained. Standing upon the podium, Tommy glances from candidate to candidate, from audience member to audience member. He spies Tubbo in the crowd and Jack and many others he recognizes.

Wilbur does not respond, and that is when Tommy realizes that something is terribly wrong. Wilbur’s fingers all but crushes the paper with the election results.

The smile falls from Tommy’s face. Schlatt chuckles, a wisp of cigarette smoke curling around him. Fundy stands with his back to the pillar, crinkling L’manburg’s flag. Quackity straightens his jacket, lips twitching, as if trying not to smile.

Wilbur opens his mouth and speaks, and that was that.

_They can tell you it’s righteous_

“My first decree as the President of L’manburg… _emperor_ of this new country…is to revoke the citizenship of Wilbur Soot and Tommy Innit!”

In a matter of bumbling seconds, Tommy finds himself thrown out of the very land he has learned to call home. That he had fought for and protected with his lives.

Tommy sprints, feet splashing in the mud as they cross the river, leap over tree stumps and slide down gravelly slopes. His heart races, unable to feel his fingers, nor the aching in his limbs as he smears blood against the bark of trunks.

_Keep your chin up in the crisis_

“We’re going to take it back,” Wilbur says, rubbing his chin as he paces about. Of course they will take their nation back. Tommy is not particularly fond of this new abode of theirs. Drippy and hard and not a good place for a nap.

“Yeah, well, I’m not liking this place very much,” Tommy mutters, kicking at a pebble, doing his best to ignore the groans of zombies further into the ravine.

“Are you ready for this, Tommy? It is going to be a revolution like no other.”

In hindsight, Tommy should have seen it coming. The way Wilbur’s eyes have lost their spark, the way he moves with a stiffness that Tommy has never seen before.

He had not. If there was one thing Tommy regretted, it was this.

_Say it enough and you’ll start believing._

“This seems like a nice thing Schlatt’s doing,” Wilbur says, as he and Tommy leaps over treetops, headed back to Pogtopia.

“Well…”

“And we’re trying to take this from them,” Wilbur continues.

Tommy does not respond this time.

“Tommy,” Wilbur says, pausing with a hand against the stone wall, head angled towards the ground. The chirp of crickets drown out Tommy’s racing thoughts. What is happening? Is Wilbur getting cold feet? Lost his nerve?

His next words send maggots crawling under Tommy’s skin, a chill travelling down his spine.

“Are we the bad guys?”

_In the glory, in the justice_

“Tommy, I’m going to have to ask you to step away.”

Dream holds out his sword. Tommy narrows his eyes. He knows he is no match for Dream. Not with the man decked out in the suit of violet armour, wielding a sword radiating with an evil energy and his shield with the vileness of a thousand demons.

Yet, Tommy does not waver in his stance. Surely there must be another way. Another way to take L’manburg back without reducing it to rubble.

Wilbur giggles, a demented sort of giggle. With a wave of his hand, the TNT disappears into his inventory, particles of blue fizzling where the bombs once were.

It is then that Tommy knows. This Wilbur that stands before him is no longer the Wilbur he knew.

_They will drill it into your heads._

“Techno Blade?” Tubbo gasps, shrinking back against the confines of his prison. Tommy can only watch from the roof of a nearby building, hands slapped over his mouth.

“Techno Blade won’t hurt him,” Wilbur says. The same line that he repeated like a mantra. The more times they are said, the more words begin to lose their value. “Techno Blade’s our friend.”

It is at Schlatt’s drunken command that Techno does the deed. With a single shot, a single burst of sparkles and glitter, all that remains is an empty prison and an agonized scream that rings true in the air for all to hear.

_Ain’t no crying till the war’s done._

The day has come to take back their country.

Tommy stands just outside the Intimidation Tower, gathered with the rest of Pogtopia. They follow Techno Blade to his underwater base, landing smoothly in a room full of large chests, each stored to the brim with supplies for war.

Tubbo grabs a new crossbow, and Tommy a shield. Niki tugs a sword from within a chest and Quackity nicks whatever he can get his hands on.

It is almost time for war, and this time, they will not be blindsided.

_Ain’t no crying ‘cause the fighting’s just begun._

Arrows rain from above like a torrential downpour. Flames lick at the sky, their blazing magnificence a stunning backdrop. Pogtopia’s army guards the tower with their life, driving Schlatt’s forces further and further back.

Everywhere around them lies rubble and ruin. Nothing remains untouched. In the heat of war, they have razed the land to scorched earth.

_No crying till the sun comes_

“Any last words, Schlatt?” Tommy aims the crossbow at Schlatt’s face. Schlatt, who is in too drunken a stupor to process the question, sunk too deep into the dark abyss of defeat to respond.

_Till the sun comes up._

“To be honest, I’m not sure what a President does,” Tubbo says, fingers gripping the sides of the lectern as he addresses his people as the new President.

Tommy can only stare at him with pride in his eyes. Never had he imagined that the events would have led to this moment. If it had been Wilbur on that stand, speaking like this with the most presidential tone and the most presidential words, would Tommy still regard him with the same respect?

Speaking of Wilbur…

_Till the sun comes up._

“I did not spend weeks planning this revolution, giving you guys gear, for you guys to go in and replace one tyrant with another.” Techno pauses, crossbow at the ready, contempt in his gaze as his eyes dart from Tommy, to Tubbo, to Quackity. “Don’t you see what’s happening here? Don’t you see history repeating itself?”

There is no logic, no reasoning with a man hell-bent on acting on his ideals. There was no way Tommy could have convinced Techno to give up, not when he retrieves cubes of sand and skulls. Not just any sand and skulls.

“Let me tell you a story, Tommy. The story of a man called Theseus.”

_Ain’t no crying, no crying, no crying_.

The explosion catches them all off guard. As the TNT explodes from beneath their feet, launching Quackity several feet into the air, Tommy leaps into action. He grits his teeth, scanning the area, blade at the ready.

No longer does he care about the Withers wracking havoc on L’manburg, at the splash of dirt and the crash of water spilling from a nearby lake. All he can see is the lone man standing with his arms spread, a crazed grin on his face.

_Ain’t no crying, no crying, no crying._

“L’manburg, my unfinished symphony! Forever unfinished!” Wilbur cackles. His vision blurs before him. His L’manburg is gone, and no one can claim it for themselves anymore.

If he can’t have it, no one can. He _alone_ will have the last laugh.

Before him, Phil stands with trembling hands, the shimmering sword inches from Wilbur’s body. For an instant, Wilbur craves the peace of death. He wants to feel the cold bite of the blade as it enters his chest, robbing him of the air in his lungs, of the beat of his bleeding heart.

He wants to die.

He meets Phil’s eyes, the latter unable to comprehend the situation before them. The conflict is clear, but Wilbur does not like that. He wants Phil to kill him with no regrets. He wants Phil to see the destruction that he has just wrought upon the land, the kinds of diabolical deeds that he can never redeem himself from.

With a shuddering breath, sleepiness washing over him as adrenaline wears away, Wilbur merely whispers.

“Kill me, Phil. Kill me.”

_Till the sun comes up._

It was a vow, between Tommy and Tubbo, as they stare into the void that was once L’manburg. Wilbur had died the most tragic death, wrapped in nothing but betrayal and despair in the end.

Had he truly achieved satisfaction at last? Was blowing L’manburg up all he needed to free his mind from its dark shackles?

_Till the sun comes up._

The sunset is beautiful. It is not something that Tommy has seen in a while, the sinking of the blushing orb beyond the hills, beyond the horizon. The pink and orange of the clouds begin to disappear as the moon takes charge.

They have won in the end. They have won the battle, despite the substantial losses they had to suffer. Their blood, sweat and tears have paid off at last.

The story is not over. They still have Tommy’s discs to take back. Techno is still running around, powerful and dangerous. L’manburg has yet to be rebuilt.

But now, Tommy thinks, as Tubbo falls asleep against his shoulder, tuckered out from the day’s events, they would have some time to rest and relax. Just for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 2

_In this division, make your decision._

“I _will_ build these walls to build limit!” Dream snarls. “I will station guards around the perimeter. No one is to leave L’manburg, ever!”

Tommy stares in horror at the unsightly walls carved of obsidian, the black stone reminiscent of a prison cell. His arm falls to his side, Spirit’s crinkled strip of hide dropped from his fingers.

“You can’t let him do this, Tubbo!” Tommy cries, gesticulating wildly. “You’re the President! Say something!”

Tubbo’s gaze is unlike anything Tommy has seen before. The emptiness in those eyes is overwhelming, as if the hollowness may leap out at Tommy and consume him whole.

“L’manburg can be independent,” Dream says, sitting with his legs dangling from the grand obsidian wall, “but L’manburg can’t be free.”

_Every shoulder you lean on is the one you will turn on._

“Dream, please detain and escort Tommy out of my country.”

“What?” Tommy stands, stock-still, as he watches Tubbo turn his back on him, not even sparing him a second glance. “Tubbo, what are you-?”

“Come on, Tommy, let’s go,” Dream says, a hand grasping Tommy’s shoulder.

Fundy and Quackity shoot him apologetic looks, before hurrying after Tubbo. Even Ranboo refuses to meet his gaze.

The only one who follows him, like a loyal mutt, is none other than sweet, innocent Ghostbur.

_Burn it to ashes_

“No, please! Please, Dream!”

Tommy wraps his arms around himself, watching as Dream sends a grenade to the bottom of the pit. The resulting explosion is deafening, ringing in Tommy’s ears.

All his hard work. All that effort…all flushed down the drain.

“Well now, Tommy,” Dream says, fingers clasped in front of him. His mask is crooked upon his face, revealing just a sliver of brunet hair. “What shall we do today?”

_Watch as it crashes_

The lava looks inviting.

Tommy sits with a knee drawn up to his chest, eyes trained on the bubbles of the red, hot fluid below. What would it be like to take a dip, to hurl himself to its bottommost pits?

Would he die immediately? Will he sizzle from the legs up, melting like ice cream in the middle of summer till there is nothing left but liquid flesh?

“It’s not your time to die, Tommy.”

Dream stands over him, hands tucked into the pockets of his cloak. Tommy sighs, picking himself up. He staggers down the path leading back to his home in the foreseeable future, back to Logstedshire.

It is never his time to die.

_Nobody left to forgive or forget._

Tubbo stares at the massive tower.

He rubs his eyes. Then he rubs them again.

Did…Tommy…

Tubbo sinks to his knees, nails digging into his scalp. He cares not about the rattle of skeletons in the nearby woods, or the vwoops of the teleporting Endermen.

He did not want this. Tubbo only exiled Tommy to teach him a lesson, to teach him that he could not act however he wanted as long as he holds a position of power.

In the dead of the night, Tubbo wants to scream. He wants to scream to the moon like a wolf’s howl. He wants to take it all back. Those harsh words he spat Tommy’s way, the icy glares he reserved for the boy who was his best friend. If there was anything in the past he wanted to change, it has to be this.

Tubbo did not want this at all.

_Say it enough and you’ll start believing._

“They abandoned me, Techno Blade,” Tommy says with a sigh, settled in the warmth of his underground cavern that he has built under his enemy’s house. “No one came to visit me when I was exiled.”

Techno purses his lips, scratching his chin absently. “Well, if you have nowhere to go…what do you think about joining me, Tommy?”

“I want to get my discs back, Techno Blade.”

“We could,” Techno says, shrugging. “We could get back your discs _and_ get back at the people who wronged you.”

_They can tell you that it’s righteous_

“The discs don’t matter, Tommy!”

Tommy freezes, unable to believe his ears. What did Tubbo just say?

“You blew up the community house,” Tubbo’s voice is shaky. “You made me believe you were dead!”

“That’s not…I didn’t!”

Tubbo does not listen to Tommy’s protests, nor does he care about the numerous pairs of eyes solely on him as he reaches into the chest of green and black, retrieving one of what Tommy treasures the most.

“Give him the discs, Tubbo. I don’t care anymore.”

Tubbo keeps his steely gaze on Tommy. Tubbo holds the disc out, delivering it straight into Dream’s hands. Dream cradles the disc, making sure to keep it safe in his cloak.

“What can I say, Tubbo?” Dream says with a lilt in his voice. “You’re an absolute idiot.”

_Keep your chin up in the crisis._

“Now, everyone, we’re going to prepare,” Tommy says, slamming a chest in front of him. “There’s going to be a war tomorrow, and we’re going to need all the supplies and resources that we can get.”

It was a while since the last war for L’manburg, and Tommy sees both new and familiar faces. It doesn’t matter, though. As long as they can fight on their side, they are an ally.

Perhaps he could have been too naïve, too much of an idiot to have seen the cohesion fraying at the seams. If he had been more perceptive, could he have seen the signs?

The hidden motives of moles in their midst?

_Say it enough and you’ll start believing._

Why can’t they see?

Ranboo stares Fundy down, the strain of eye contact growing by the second.

Why can’t they see that they are choosing sides again? Committed to their act, blinded by their ideas of grandeur, Ranboo figures.

Ranboo turns tail and leaves. There is only one place he can feel a semblance of safety. One place where he _knows_ that he can get away from all this conflict.

To the panic room he goes.

_In the glory, in the justice_

“It’s half an hour early!”

Chaos reigns as soon as the Withers come into view. Skulls cracking with the most disturbing sound, magic bursting from their skeletal bodies. Tommy slashes at a Wither, sword barely making a dent. The Wither hurls a skull to the face, one that Tommy just manages to sidestep.

“Kill the Withers!” Tommy shouts. “Kill the Withers then kill Techno Blade!”

Needless to say, they made a deadly assumption.

One that would cost their country its future.

_They will drill it into your heads._

“You _knew_ Friend was in that house! You knew!” Ghostbur wails. What is this burning in his chest? What is this agonizing pain that has seized him like a rag doll? “You knew everything that everyone owned was in this town!”

Phil crosses his arms. Ghostbur searches for even the barest hint of regret on his face, the pain amplified when he finds none.

“I did.”

“Why did you do this? How can you still see yourself a hero? Sending a message, Phil! Sending a message!”

“I had to do what must be done,” Phil says. “Not to start another government. Not to take genuinely nice, whole-hearted people and turn them against each other with power and corruption.”

Why? Ghostbur swipes at his face. Why must everyone else be caught up in this war of ideals?

Why him?

He sowed the seeds of peace yet pays for the price of war.

_Ain’t no crying till the war’s done._

Thunder rumbles above. The rain is relentless, battering their bodies with big, fat droplets. Tommy stands with Quackity and Tubbo on the massive obsidian platform above what used to be L’manburg.

He snaps each wire with his bare hands, the redstone spilling from it like blood from veins. The cannons’ annoying clicks are no more, but the damage has been done.

Tommy cannot bring himself to drop his gaze, at the remnants of the country beneath his feet. It is a crater now, nothing but bits of stone and the ugliness of bedrock.

They have lost, and defeat tastes bitter on Tommy’s tongue.

_Ain’t no crying ‘cause the fighting’s just begun._

“One final effort.” Tommy’s focus is on the sun dipping beneath the horizon as he takes the oars. Tubbo sits behind him, compass in hand as he directs Tommy to the battleground.

“One final effort,” Tubbo echoes.

Dolphins whistle in the distance, and cods swim by the edge of their boat. Tommy has no idea where this compass will take them; he has never been so far out before.

“It’s always been just me and you, Tubbo,” Tommy continues. “In our fight against Dream.”

_No crying till the sun comes._

“Go, go, go!”

Tommy grabs the discs from Tubbo, the familiar slice of their edge against the skin of his palm oddly welcoming. They managed to take the discs back! They have done it at last!

Now all they have to do is to leave here in one piece.

“Come on, Tubbo! Let’s go! We’ve got the discs!”

When silence is Tommy’s only answer, he spins around at the quickest of speeds. His throat dries as he realizes just what has happened, discs forgotten as he regards the scene before him.

Dream holds Tubbo with a sword to his throat. His mask is broken and chipped, revealing an emerald eye, pupil swirling with a maniac victory.

_Till the sun comes up._

“This is…”

Tommy surveys the Vault, the horror brewing in his chest as the elevator descends deeper and deeper into the earth.

This cannot be true.

Built of blackstone, the Vault houses everyone’s most precious items on this server, each cage, each enclosure labelled with familiar names.

Friend. Henry. Hell, even Skeppy.

Tommy swivels on his heels, struggling to keep himself afloat, clutching at driftwood to keep from sinking into the depths of despair. Dream tilts his head, that singular emerald eye keeping watch on them, arms folded.

Tommy clenches his fists. There is no beating Dream. Dream has always had them at his mercy, and this time, it is no different.

Tommy spits his next words, out of rage, out of sorrow, out of pure loathing.

“You are fucked up, Dream.”

_Till the sun comes up._

“We had our laughs,” Tubbo says, with a waver in his voice. “It was fun while it lasted.”

“We can’t accept this now, Tubbo! What are you thinking?”

Dream chuckles. Tommy wishes with all his heart that he would just shut up. The man is toying with them, like a cat would a mouse. They were prey the whole time; they never had the upper hand, ever.

“What am I…” Tommy stumbles back. It is as if his body is ripped apart from the inside. Nothing can fully express the pain. They were so determined, so eager, so _close_ to taking it all back.

“What am I without you?” Tommy gasps.

Tubbo merely flashes him a sad smile, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Yourself.”

_Ain’t no crying, no crying, no crying._

The portal whooshes, the heat of the Nether permeating the very room they stand upon. Running to the portal to escape had been a stupid plan. Dream would have killed them before they even made it across half the room.

Escaping had been the stupidest plan, but what if help came from the other side?

A booming voice resounds in the chamber as a black shoe emerges from the violet void. The shimmer of a golden chain in the dim light catches Tommy’s eye.

“You know…” Punz says, sword in hand, decked out in armour. Not just Punz, Tommy realizes, but friends that fought alongside them. Puffy, Ranboo, Sam, Jack Manifold…

They are all here. They have come to the rescue.

A grin stretches across Punz’s face. “You should have paid me more, Dream.”

_Ain’t no crying, no crying, no crying._

“Put your stuff in the hole, Dream.”

For once, Tommy thinks, as he wields power in his hands, having Dream bowing down to his every command feels nice. Relieving, even.

Dream does so begrudgingly, stripped of his sword, his crossbow, his arrows. Down to the green of his cloak. He is a shadow of the man he was before. His reign of terror will soon cease to be.

It is time to bring this sad story to an end.

_Ain’t no crying, no crying, no crying._

They have done it. They have finally secured the discs, and victory once and for all. Good will always prevail no matter the circumstances, is what Tommy believes.

The rain beats down on his body, but he does not care in the slightest. The trident’s grip is slick in his hand as he soars through the air in celebration of his newfound emancipation from the anguish of war.

He is finally free. Free of the disc wars, free of L’manburg’s sorry history.

It is time to begin anew.

On to a new day.

_Till the sun comes up._

“It’s been a while.”

Tubbo bobs his head to the music, sitting with Tommy on the bench. Ponk’s tower is in the way, but what does Tommy care? What matters is the companionship, the soothing sense of peace.

“Yeah,” Tommy says, watching the sun as it sets. “It has.”

Tubbo picks himself up, and Tommy retrieves Mellohi from the jukebox.

“Where are you going?”

Tubbo gestures vaguely in a direction. “Snowchester. I’ve got plans, Tommy.”

Tommy bids him a farewell, and yawns. Tubbo has his own thing to do now that he is released from the chains that bind him. Now that Tommy is free as well, he should think of something else to accomplish.

If only he is truly free.

_Till the sun comes up._

“Our new plan,” Tommy says, hands on his hips. He stands before a plot of land just outside his house, with Sam Nook at his side. “We’re going to build a hotel, boys.”

Sam Nook mumbles excitedly, back to the rising sun.

In the distance, the prison looms. The only space strong enough to keep the most dangerous inmate secure.

The only space strong enough to keep people in and to keep people out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season 3

_What am I fighting for?_

“It’s time for the Eggpire to rise.”

AntFrost glances over at their leader, standing amongst the vines of red. The bubbles of magma have grown less unsettling over time the longer he spends down here.

Only their leader can hear the whispers of the Egg. The glorious dictate of their god.

_What have I done?_

Ranboo trips, landing harshly on his rear, vision blurring.

No.

Absolutely not.

This cannot be…This cannot be true.

Not the TNT.

_What am I dying for?_

Karl gasps as the Butler runs him through with his sword. He crumples to the ground, blood gushing from the wound as the Butler pulls the blade out in one fluid move.

Karl coughs as he slumps forward, drained of energy. All he can see is crimson all around him. Crimson, scarlet, ruby, mixed with the whiteness of the in-between.

“The Egg is hungry, Karl,” Sir Billiam says, an eerie smile in his voice. “The Egg is hungry.”

_What have we all become?_

“This will be our new hideout.”

Phil chortles at Techno Blade’s elation. The stronghold is the perfect place, remaining hidden from everyone’s eyes. The portal is unlit. Of course it would be. After all, there is no going to the End.

If they could redecorate this room just a tiny bit, remove the lava and add some glitzy baubles and chandeliers…

Yeah, the Syndicate will appreciate the class.

_Make you live through the pressure._

“We’re going to kill Tommy,” Jack says, observing Snowchester from the top of a cliff. A draft washes past him like a tidal wave. Jack hardly shivers. The fire in his heart is much too warm to yield to the cold. “Me and Niki, we’re going to…”

Jack quashes the doubt eating at his insides. There is nothing to doubt about this. Tommy is a hazard to the server. He must be gone.

“Have you ever wondered,” Jack mumbles to himself, to the voices in his head, “why everyone looks like the bad guy from Tommy’s perspective?”

_Make you live through the pain._

“Sam? Sam! Let me out! Let me out!” Tommy shrieks, yelling at the curtain of lava, the only barrier that keeps him from safety. He pointedly ignores the man in the bright orange outfit behind him. He can _feel_ Dream’s gaze drilling holes into the back of his head.

“I can’t Tommy. I have to figure out what is happening to the prison.” With that warden’s tone of his, Tommy cannot tell whether he harbours regret or not. “We will get you out soon. I promise.”

Tommy cannot stay here. Not with the man who manipulated him, who abused him for his own gain. For his own fun. A week, at that!

“Sam! You can’t leave me in here! Phil! Phil!”

No response; Sam is gone.

Tommy called for help, but no one came.

_Sacrifice you for nothing._

“That fucking Revival Book is fake! It’s not real! You’re just lying to us! You’re just lying!” Tommy cries, back against the corner of the room, in the pool of water.

Dream tosses the potato into the air, catching it with a scary deftness.

“Schlatt’s fucking dead! I’ve seen his grave! His corpse is there!”

“Oh really?” Dream singsongs. His footsteps resound in the quiet of the cell.

“W-Wait, what are you-?”

Dream’s eyes sparkle with a certain sort of ferocity, like a trapped beast who’s lost all sanity.

“Why don’t you go see him, then?”

_We’re still dying in vain._

Ranboo stands outside Tommy’s house, hands tucked into his pockets. His cheeks hurt; the tears have scarred them. He barely managed to plant the red tulips and white lilies without collapsing into a heap at the door of his base.

Ranboo lowers his head.

Why?

How could Sam have let this happen?

Ranboo turns to the setting sun, shuffling over to the lone bench, settling under the overhang of the oak tree. The jukebox is no longer there. No more discs to play, no more music to listen to.

Only the moon remains to keep him company, amidst the clusters of stars in the sky.


End file.
